Cloaked In Mystery
by SnowDragon89
Summary: In the wizarding world, the Zabini’s are commonly associated with three labels: pureblood, rich, and neutral. However, if one were to research further into the mystery that is the Zabini family, another such label would be revealed. Magical prowess.
1. The Beginning

Summary: In the wizarding world, the Zabini's were commonly associated with three labels: pure-blood, rich, and neutral. However, if one were to research further into the mystery that is the Zabini family, another such label would be revealed. Magical prowess. (See more in my bio)

PS: I wrote this first part of the chapter a while back. Please don't judge the story just yet (the second chapter is ten times better)

* * *

Sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows of the library, casting about colorful yet somber shades of light. The deep burgundy arm-chair beside the small table was currently occupied by one Blaise Zabini. 

Peck peck peck

Blaise pulled his head from his book and marking his place in the book, slowly sauntered over to the window. The pompous gray owl stuck out its leg, presenting a Hogwarts letter. Untying the letter, Blaise cast the bird back out the window. Slipping his finger under the Hogwarts seal, he tilted the envelope, a shiny badge dropping into his hand. Smirking knowingly to himself he flipped the badge over, Head Boy.

A quiet pop alerted him of Nealy's presence. Ignoring the house-elf for a moment, Blaise quickly skimmed the letter. After deciding that there was nothing there of dire importance he pocketed the letter and spared Nealy a glance.

"Mistress Zabini is calling young Master Zabini for dinner." Nealy squeaked out, hands tightly clutching her small green gown.

Though the Zabini's were not extraordinarily kind to their house-elves, they also did not dress the creatures in torn pillow cases as the Malfoy's did. Mistress Zabini, a lady of class and simple elegance, refused to have dirty house-elves plodding around her house in repulsive clothing.

In most ways, the Zabini's were a typical Slytherin family. Often overlooked by the politically active Malfoy's, the family was quite pleased to be left in the shadows. As the saying goes, attention invites trouble.

* * *

"Good to see that Dumbledore hasn't completely lost it." His father said once he caught sight of the sparkling badge in his son's hands. 

Blaise nodded and piled some more potatoes on his plate. He had been the clear candidate for the position. Blaise was the top wizard in the school and one of Slytherin's best keepers of all time; Dumbledore would have been a fool not to have chosen him.

"No doubt, Draco Malfoy would have been expecting the badge. After all, his father has bought him everything else." Blaise's mother, Helena, said contemptuously. Blaise suppressed a laugh; his mother's _respect_ for the Malfoy's knew no bounds.

Suddenly the mood of the room changed, his father had put down his fork and was staring intensely at his son. About time, Blaise thought to himself, his birthday was only hours away.

"We have properly warded the spare bedroom for your use tonight. You'll be sleeping there." His father said bluntly.

Blaise frowned, "I should think that wards around my normal bed would be en-"

"Trust me son, it would be better if you slept in the spare bedroom tonight. The additional wards that our ancestors have set up in that room can only help your Awakening."

Blaise nodded in acceptance. "I understand. One cannot be too careful in times like these."

* * *

Slipping into his Slytherin green night-shorts, Blaise climbed into bed. In minutes, sleep overcame his anxiety. 

There was a knock on the door and Helena entered, wrinkling her nose at the dusty smell of the room. At the sight of her son, her expression softened. Compassion flickered for a moment in her eyes as she brushed her lips against her son's forehead.

Braeden Zabini slipped into the room after his wife. Laying a hand on her shoulder he studied his son's peaceful resting form. With tidy brown hair, deep hazel eyes, and an admirable physique, he knew that all the pureblood families would soon be clamoring to claim Blaise as their son-in-law. With a small burst of pride, Braeden uncharacteristically reached out and rested his hand on Blaise's forehead.

Suddenly Blaise's eyes shot open and his breath became ragged. His body twitched for a moment then stilled. Blinking his grainy eyes, he laid his hand over his thumping heart.

"Does it hurt?" his mother whispered.

He looked up and shook his head at his parents, "No, just… surprised." He smiled uncertainly, "It wasn't as bad as you made it out to be father."

Braeden did not return the smile, instead glanced at his watch and hurried out the room. "Something's not right", he muttered as he pushed open the doors of his study. He hastened to the bookshelf and pulled out a few books, banging them on his desk. Sporadically flipping through the books, Braeden Zabini stole a few harried glances at the clock, 11:58 PM.

He turned to his father's notebook and quickly ran his finger down the Table of Contents. "Wards, wards, wards!" he whispered frantically to himself, practically tearing the book apart in his haste to turn to the right page. After locating the spell of interest he ran back to the spare bedroom, knocking over several antique vases and statues in his race against time.

Just as he threw open the door a flash a pure magic blasted him into the corridor. They watched in horror as Blaise's body convulsed, his face contorting from indescribable pain. The light enveloping his son, threw his wife against the wall, blood dripping from the side of her mouth. He scrambled to Helena, pointing frantically for her to read the spell in the book.

She nodded and together they pulled out their wands and chanted the incantation. Within seconds the light withdrew inside their son's body, leaving Blaise gasping for breath. "What the h-" he began hoarsely when the sounds of multiple apparations interrupted him.

Braeden leaned over and surprised Blaise by kissing his sweaty forehead. Brushing the hair off Blaise's face Braeden Zabini said shakily, "It's not over yet son." Then grasping his wife's hand, he channeled some of her energy to make the room sound-proof.

"We'll deal with them son." Helena sighed softly. "Whatever happens, you have to stay in this room Blaise. Even if something horrible has happened… you have to protect yourself. Don't let yourself be caught Blaise, be-"

"Helena." Braeden urgently motioned for her to join him. Then they quickly situated themselves in the living room. It wasn't long before a hoard of cloaked wizards stormed into the room.

"Mr. and Mrs. Zabini, a pleasure." Hissed a cold voice. Zabini drew his wife in protectively beside him.

"I must demand that you leave immediately" he replied equally frigidly. "You are trespassing on private property."

The Death-Eaters regrouped themselves behind their Master. Pale faces leering menacingly at the couple. "Now, Braeden, show some hospitality. We were in the neighborhood and decided to pay you a visit."

Voldemort twirled his wand between his fingers, never breaking eye contact with Braeden Zabini. "We were hoping that you would have finally come to you senses and stop supporting the idiot Dumbledore."

"You know very well that our loyalties do not lie with the light." Helena spoke boldly. Voldemort silenced her with a bone-chilling glare.

Still toying with his wand, Voldemort began conversationally. "I've had my eye on your family for sometime now. Oh by the way, how is your son? Lucius has been telling me so much about him."

Before he could control himself Braeden spat out, "You stay away from my son!"

He raised an eyebrow at the outburst and smirked. He continued as though uninterrupted, "Would you believe that my wards registered an unusual influx of magical energy tonight? What do you have to explain for that?"

Braeden flushed angrily, "What I do on my property is none of your business."

Voldemort raised his hand and motioned for his Death Eaters to encircle the couple. Without missing a beat he continued, "I'm fed up with this neutrality of yours Zabini. You'd do well to decide your loyalties now."

Braeden Zabini's eyes unconsciously flickered in the direction of his son's room. Following his gaze Voldemort found himself staring at a set of stairs. "Is there something you'd like to share with us Zabini?"

When he did not reply Voldemort's eyes flashed, "Or perhaps you'd like it better if I found out by myself?" With a fluid motion he reached out and grabbed Braeden by the collar. "You WILL TELL ME WHAT YOU ARE HIDING!"_ (AN: Ugh lame!)_

Zabini pulled himself from Voldemort's grip and this time did not disguise his disgust. "You're messing with the wrong family. Get out now." He said harshly.

From behind he heard someone shout out the Cruciatus curse. In the next instant Helena was writhing uncontrollably on the floor, her screams echoing off the walls. Whipping out his wand he quickly killed the man who dared to hurt his wife. Now under fire from all sides, Braeden spouted off curse after curse, most of them Dark. Though heavily outnumbered, it was still clearly a one sided battle. His sheer magical knowledge and skill slowly wore out his adversaries and he would have won… had it not been for one Lord Voldemort.

When most of his useless Death Eaters had gotten themselves knocked out Voldemort was forced to intervene. He raised his wand, an unforgivable on the tip of his tongue. Swiftly, Helena summoned his wand from across the room after she had dispatched another Death Eater. Before she could react, Lucius Malfoy blasted her with a bludgeoning curse from behind. With a pained cry and a solid thump she was blasted several feet into the air and fell brutally on top of their antique end table. Braeden distractedly continued to fight, anxious to make his way to his motionless wife.

"Helena!" he called out desperately as he saw a deep red pool of blood blossoming from under her body.

Now wandless, Voldemort quickly looked around for a weapon. Seizing a heavy ornamental goblet off the mantel, he clubbed Braeden Zabini in the back of his head.

Braeden froze and swayed for a moment before his wand clattered to the floor from his hands. Grasping the back of his bloody head, he sank to the floor. Voldemort sneered nastily as the fallen wizard gasped for breath, it might have been crude but it had gotten the job done.

Zabini's mind blanked as he pulled his hands out from behind his head and gaped at his blood-soaked fingers. He groaned once, trying to blink away the darkness that was creeping into the sides of his vision. Within seconds, he was unconscious.

Lucius Malfoy gingerly picked up his master's wand from beside the witch. Striding quickly towards Lord Voldemort, he bent on one knee, presenting the wand above his head. Voldemort growled, snatching up his wand, and hissed menacingly to his followers.

"If either of these two so much as move a muscle before I come back…" he left his sentence hanging, sending shudders down the backs of his Death Eaters. They all sank to their knees subserviently, desperate not to be singled out for punishment.

Before Voldemort could make an example of one of his men, the wards around the Zabini house-hold came crashing down. In the pin-drop silence that followed all could hear the sounds of faint moaning.

"Point me: Blaise Zabini." He muttered furiously. Before he could follow in the indicated direction they felt another more obvious ward come down. After quickly deducing that the anti-apparation shield had been removed, Voldemort apparated to his quarry, the final member of the Zabini family.

Blaise panted frantically for breath. The magic that was building inside of him was filling up his every blood vessel, choking the air out of him. He dimly noticed the wards around his room give way to the enormous power that was worming its way inside of him. Then deliberately, he removed the anti-apparation shield, trying to make his escape before the Death Eaters came to get him.

Tripping over the rug in his daze, Blaise scrambled to pick up his robe while blasting his window open with a flick of his wand. Voldemort, having located the room in which Blaise was hiding, stormed into the room, wand aloft. Then swishing his wand in a downward angle, Lord Voldemort erected an apparation shield of his own around the room.

Voldemort leered at the boy, anticipation glowing in his eyes. "Give it up boy." His eyes flashed as he readjusted his grip on his wand.

Zabini froze, warning signals going off madly in his head. Staying silent, he rapidly laid out his escape route. He was enough of a Slytherin to realize that by giving himself up no one would benefit. After all, the Dark Lord had already made up his mind to wipe his entire family out anyway…

Voldemort stared calculatingly at Blaise, taking in everything about his quarry. The sweat rolling off the boy's face and glistening on his bare chest. The silent and balanced breaths that made his chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. And finally Blaise's hazel eyes… exhaustion, anger and perhaps… pain? Voldemort noted in slight surprise before he pieced the clues together.

The resilience and tenacity that the Zabinis' had exhibited that day had been unnaturally sharp. All the subtle hints dropped by each family member fit together: Braeden's surreptitious glances upstairs; Helena's show of unusual courage; Mr. Zabini's outburst when the topic of his son was brought up. And here, the remnants of several layers of magical wards were hanging tauntingly in the air.

Shifting his eyes back so that they focused themselves piercingly on Blaises' Voldemort whispered knowingly. "Your Awakening I presume? How… quaint."

Magical Awakenings occurred in Pureblood wizards when they turn of age. It was the reason why most Pureblood families safe-guarded their bloodline with their lives. The longer and purer the bloodline, the stronger the magic inherited. But of course, most Purebloods failed to see that one could only use their reservoir of magic if they knew how to access it. Obviously… the Zabini's knew exactly how to do that.

Taking advantage of the boy's momentary indecision Voldemort flung out one of his most favorite curses. Contrary to popular belief, it was not the Cruciatus. The Dark Lord was forced to use that crude curse to control his followers because they were too dim-witted to fear anything else. No, his favorite by far was the Alimari Curse, an ancient curse that instead of attacking your enemy exposed him.

Whipping up a shield a few seconds too late, the curse tossed Blaise in the air like a toothpick. For the second time that night, he felt his magic threaten to drown him. Voldemort stared, awe-struck, at the incredible display of magic at his disposal. He reached out a spindly finger and touched a tendril of the powerful force. Hissing as it stung his finger, he had barely twitched his finger when the magic redirected itself in that direction and blasted a hole in the wall. Withdrawing his hand cautiously, Voldemort held his hand close to his chest, savoring the feeling of power.

Blaise, drowning in his ocean of magic, finally managed to flounder to the surface. He watched in fury as Voldemort manipulated his magic, HIS MAGIC. Something clicked angrily inside of him and Blaise unconsciously counteracted the effects of the curse with his sheer anger. Standing up shakily from the sudden magical imbalance he seized the opportunity and threw himself out the open window. Twisting his body in a familiar pattern he maneuvered his body so that he was directly above the apparation point. Then, blocking out Voldemort's angry scream, he apparated, in mid-air.

* * *

When Voldemort arrived back in the living room, his stride was one of frustration. He walked over to the still unconscious couple and roughly enervated them. When Braeden took a little too long to regain consciousness Voldemort vented out his anger with a well placed Cruciatus. It was satisfying feeling and at once the Dark Lord felt in control again. 

Raising his wand again in preparation for the final blow he took in a deep breath, as though savoring the experience. The thought of savoring something reminded him of the sheer intoxication of Blaise's magic; Voldemort's wand hand faltered and fought the urge to finish off the boy's parents.

Kneeling beside the dazed Zabini, Voldemort hissed loud enough so that only the three of them could hear. "You'd better pray for your son because when I'm through with him… let's just say that he would be better off dead."

* * *

Shivering in the cold night air, Blaise pulled his robe tighter around his slim body. It was dark and Diagon Alley was dimly lit by the few shops that remained open all night long. He passed a dark Madam Malkins and carefully skirted the small crowd outside of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. 

Walking with purposeful strides, Blaise headed to the Leaky Cauldron to catch up on some much needed rest. Of course, the fact that it was one of the safest and most Light oriented taverns in the Wizarding London could only help. He doubted that Voldemort would have the guts to attack such a prominent place impromptu. After what had happened that night, the very thought of being alone frightened him. This was doubly unusual, because the thought of being afraid in the first place was a rather new feeling.

Blaise approached Tom and pulled out a small fistful of golden galleons. Dropping the correct amount on the counter he muttered, trying to mask the exhaustion in his voice, "I need a single room, 14 if it's empty."

Tom studied the wizard in front of him. It was Blaise Zabini, age 17, the only son of the Zabini family, heir to the Zabini fortune, and soon to be Head Boy of Hogwarts. Of course, he didn't acknowledge his recognition of the boy but simply dragged the small pile of money toward him and handed over the key. Then without breaking eye contact Tom reached underneath the bar and pulled out a fresh butter beer. Blaise's lips twitched briefly as he took the bottle gratefully. Slumping on the closest barstool, he slowly nursed his drink. He usually would have itched to have something a little stronger but the thought of not being in control of his senses had somehow lost its appeal.

After a few warm minutes over his drink, Blaise pushed the bottle across the counter. He stood up and dropped a few more coins on the counter. After a moments hesitation he dropped 3 galleons extra. Sliding the rather generous tip to the bartender, he murmured, "I need a wake-up call. Seven-thirty would be nice."

Tom nodded in agreement and went back to wiping his mug. Climbing the rickety stairs two at a time, Blaise opened the door and slipped inside.

Escaping is always the easy part. Evading… that's an entirely different story.


	2. Adjusting abysmally

"Wake-up, it's seven thirty." Tom knocked once at his door. When he heard a sleepy groan come from within he continued down the stairs to his bar where several customers were waiting impatiently for him to arrive.

Blaise rubbed his eyes groggily and let out a long yawn. He needed no reminding of his hellish confrontation with Voldemort the previous night. Instead of getting up and heading to the showers, he slumped back into bed. He would have gladly gone right back to sleep if it were any other normal day. After all, what teenager in their right mind would wake up at such an odd hour?

But of course, it was not any normal day and Blaise doubted that such a day would ever come about with Voldemort still at large. Kneading his eyes gently with the tips of his fingers, he set about occluding his mind. After he had cleared his mind sufficiently enough to not have a panic attack, Blaise crawled out of the small bed and stumbled his way to the showers. Still too tired to properly open his eyes, Blaise randomly set the dial and shed his clothes.

When the near scalding water hit his body he let out a little undignified yelp and scrambled out of the shower. Waving the steam away from his face he slowly stuck his hand behind the curtain and adjusted the temperature. The sleepiness had vanished immediately, the sudden jolt having properly woken him up.

Stepping out of the shower he roughly patted himself dry, his hair dripping in front of his face. Instinctively, his hand strayed to his wand but instead of picking it up he stared calculatingly at it. He stood there for a moment, one hand holding his towel about his waist and the other hovering over his wand. It would not be wise for him to underestimate the Dark Lord, but perhaps he was putting too much thought into it. After all, what was the guarantee that Voldemort really gave a damn about him?

Closing his eyes Blaise tried to imagine what his father's thoughts on the matter would have been. It didn't take long to come to a decision. Braeden would never have let fear control his life… and see where that had gotten him, probably dead or worse.

Slipping on his robe, he dropped the wand into his pocket and patted it reassuringly. For the next few days he would have to live like a muggle… er… more like a squib. He wasn't about to leave Wizarding London. Blaise figured that once he got on the Hogwarts' Express there would be so much magic in the air that any possible tracing spells would be negated. It wouldn't be too hard as September 1st was only a few days away.

* * *

Tossing a handful of Floo powder into the grate, Blaise quickly stepped into the fireplace and pulled his trunk with him. Having promised himself not to use magic, he had not been able to shrink his trunk let alone perform a feather-light charm. Dragging the trunk, he emerged from the other fireplace at King's Cross and paid the wizard the nominal fee of 7 knuts.

Crossing into the muggle world, Blaise couldn't help but have a small smile play across his features. He had a deeper connection with muggles than anyone would have dared to imagine. When he was only five, a long lost cousin had reappeared in his life. Julian Beradini was 21 and needless to say, Helena was thrilled to find out that her nephew had not been killed in a recent raid. From Italy, Julian said that he had only just discovered that he had relatives in England from a recent family history project.

Julian took Blaise with him to the Himalayas to develop the "brotherly bond" between them. It was then, 12 years ago that Julian had introduced Blaise to snowboarding. Blaise, still humoring his reverie, scoffed and shook his head at the thought of the chaos that it would cause if his classmates at Hogwarts found out that he, Blaise Zabini, indulged in the purely muggle sport.

By the time he was 10 Blaise had become quite good and had long overtaken Julian in terms of skill. It was all hush-hush in the wizarding world, but he had become quite popular in the snowboarding world. Competing in several competitions over the years under the name Adrian Beradini, Blaise had made a name for himself.

Sauntering onto the platform, Blaise breathed an unnoticeable sigh of relief. There was no way that Voldemort could possibly track his magical signature here. Dragging his now feather-light trunk behind him, he quickly secured a compartment. After settling in comfortably Blaise pulled out his Head Boy badge and a black letter from his jeans pocket. Yes, Blaise Zabini had become quite a rebel. Sporting a pair of faded jeans and a gray snowboarding tee over his black long sleeve shirt, Blaise screamed muggle. The only thing he needed now was a tattoo and piercing to qualify as a full-fledged wizard rebel. But as of now, he was satisfied with simply being a partial rebel and raising a few eyebrows.

Weighing the badge in his hand, Blaise scowled darkly at the black letter as he stuffed it back in his pocket. Voldemort had sent him his badge and basically made it out to seem as if Blaise was only attending Hogwarts because HE, Voldemort, wanted him too. It was full of the threats and warnings that Blaise had expected but it was nevertheless annoying and most probably full of truths. He involuntarily shuddered at the notion that Voldemort was controlling his every move. Shaking his head so that his shaggy hair moved out of his eyes, he muttered resentfully, "Whatever…bastard."

"Who's a bastard?" a voice from the doorway asked smirkingly.

Without turning he smiled, "You of course. Who else would I have been talking about?" Carefully shoving the badge into his pocket, Blaise turned and appraised the wizard in front of him. They exchanged stares and then broke into identical grins, slapping each other on the back. Blaise's eyes flicked automatically to the boy's left wrist and froze when he found that it was bare. Snatching the offending arm out of the air, he gave it a long stare and then looked pointedly at the boy, giving him the you-better-explain-yourself look.

"Aw chill mate! Gods, you are so bloody suspicious." Pulling his hand free of Blaise's grip, the young wizard continued, "Daddy dear was starting to get suspicious so I just moved it." Pulling up the leg of his trousers the blond-haired boy revealed the bracelet hanging about his ankle.

Blaise gave a sheepish grin and raised his hands in mock-surrender. "Sorry, but things haven't been as they seem these days." He added playfully, "I just can't believe that you thought of this before I did though." Slipping the thin rope bracelet off his wrist he settled down on the seat. Laced with protection charms and more importantly reminding them of the promise that they made to each other six years ago, Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini wore the bracelet at all times.

Untying the rope he quickly tied it around his left ankle. Draco slouched casually on the opposite seat, "Don't see why you should bother. Your father should be cool with this anyway."

Blaise stiffened at the word "father" and did not try to hide his discomfort. Clenching his hands into a fist, he stared morosely at them. "Drake… I had my Awakening three days ago." He paused, clearly reluctant to go on.

Noticing his mock-brother's turmoil, Drake slipped out of his seat and sat next to him, resting his hand protectively over his friend's fist. "Mate… I know this is hard for you. Look, you could say that Voldy himself developed a fancy for you and that you two eloped over the summer. I don't bloody care… well on seconds thoughts I would cuz I'd have wanted to be your best man." Pausing dramatically Draco continued, "Well you just should be glad that I'm not a picky guy."

Looking thoroughly embarrassed, Blaise shot Draco a simpering look and whispered shyly, "I'd say that it was more than a fancy. He's in love with me. You know what Drake? He said that I was pretty!" Blaise fluffed his hair. He continued in the same voice, quite obviously enjoying Draco's growing discomfort. "We had this small sweet little wedding in the Forbidden Forest…" Blaise sighed fakely before doubling over in laughter.

Draco had turned a very unattractive shade of puce green and was now making very loud retching noises. "Ugh, I'm going to hurl." He muttered disgustedly.

At this Blaise burst out laughing again. Draco scowled good-naturedly and hesitantly brought up the subject that they were discussing earlier. "Hey, are you ready to talk yet?"

Blaise close his eyes and took a deep breath; he had never kept any secrets from Draco before and he wasn't about to start now. "Yeah, thanks."

"As you know I had my Awakening two days ago…" Blaise told Draco his story in a quiet voice, careful not to be overheard.

When he had finished the retelling, Blaise finally looked up and nervously looked up to Draco's face. The boy was pale but obviously angry at the situation that Voldemort had put his friend in. Without hesitating, Draco gave Blaise a brief one-armed hug and messed up the younger boy's hair protectively. "Hey, don't worry. I'm here for you. I'm sure that he wouldn't have killed your mum and dad yet. Remember he still needs leverage over his _wayward heir_."

Blaise shot him a glare at the epithet but Draco wouldn't accept it. "Blaise… bro listen. You have to accept this before you can find a way to fight it. Trust me I've had plenty of stuff like this with my Dad."

Nodding in reluctant agreement Blaise leaned the back of his head against the window. Suddenly he shot up, startling Draco from his comforting. "We have to go the Head Compartment, remember?"

Digging the badge out of his pocket on the way to the compartment, Blaise haphazardly fastened it to his tee. Smirking at Draco's open-mouth gape over the badge, he casually opened the door to the compartment and sauntered in to his seat near the Head Girl. To no one's surprise it was Hermione Granger.

Granger sniffed at his late and "undignified" appearance. Shooting his a disapproving look she took the podium and cleared her throat to catch the Prefects' attention. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts. As you may already know, prefecting is an important part of Hogwarts' tradition…"

Blaise tuned her out quickly and instead opted to stare out the window. Slouching against the back of the chair, his posture reeked of insolence. Ruffling his hair, he exchanged glances with an equally bored Draco. There was a loud pecking noise and Blaise quickly turned to look at the window. Resting on the outside windowsill was a black hawk with beady eyes that were staring unblinkingly directly at him. Leaning closer to the window frustrated he noted the black letter attached to the bird's foot.

Cursing quietly under his breath he pulled out his wand and gave the window a loud whack. The irritating pecking ceased immediately.

Settling back down in his chair, Blaise gave Hermione an innocent look and gestured that she had his permission to continue. She scowled and turned faintly pink with annoyance. Flipping her bushy hair at him, she continued her prewritten speech in the same excited voice.

Now avoiding the window and the bird's piercing stare that sent shivers down his back, Blaise tried to pay attention to what Hermione was saying but failed miserably. Instead he let his eyes rove over the small group of students in front of him.

Suddenly, Hermione's angry face loomed into his vision. "Anything to add, my dear Head Boy?" she asked rhetorically, fully aware of his lack of attention.

Blaise surprised her by saying, "Yes. You still have to tell them about the new Hogsmeade procedure." Hermione flushed at her failed insult and quickly detailed the new procedure that she had forgotten.

The Prefects filtered out so that there was only Draco, Blaise and the Dream Team left in the large room. Standing in front of the window he stared calculating at the window and the bird. He tapped the window a few times and went back to staring thoughtfully.

After he did this for another minute, Hermione let out a loud exasperated sigh. "Oh god, will you stop it!" Grabbing the wand out of her robe sleeve she strode over to the window. "_Etespre!_"

Then, rolling her eyes she stuck her hand through the glass and reached out to the bird, oblivious to Blaise's shocked expression.

Blaise thrust his hand out and covered hers in the last second. The black hawk had given out a loud screech and was flying toward her hand, talons ready to maul. The black claws dugs into his pale skin, rivers of blood dripping down his arm. Hermione grabbed the letter off the bird from underneath his hand and pulled her hand back inside the train.

Seeing that Hermione had backed away, Blaise stuck out his other hand and gave the bird a hard smack to the head. With an angry squawk befitting a chicken, the hawk released its grip on his hand and flew off in the opposite direction of the train.

"Bloody hell" Draco breathed loudly, making his way slowly to his friend's side. Gingerly grasping the mauled hand in his, Draco carefully inspected it. Then he surprised the Gryffindors by bringing the bloody hand to his nose and sniffing loudly. "I'd say that upset is an understatement." he said sarcastically.

Ron pulled a disgusted look and asked, rather grossed out, "Did you just… just smell his hand?"

The Draco turned his head and gave the boy a look of disdain. "Need I even answer that?"

Ron flushed angrily but looked away. Hermione pulled our her wand, "I can heal that." She said matter-of-factly.

"No you can't. Does_ poison_ ring any bells Granger?" Draco said blandly. "I'd wrap it up and put something on it tonight."

Blaise pulled his hand away and gave it a few quick shakes, small drops of blood flying off. "Do you have something for this? I had to, you know, leave home in a hurry."

Tearing his eyes away from the blood, Draco looked up at Blaise as he conjured a white bandage and wrapped up his hand from the wrist down. "Yeah, I'll lend you some of it tonight."

Without sparing the Dream Team a glance Blaise walked our the door behind Draco, securing his wrap as he went.

The three blinked and stared in the direction that the two had left in. Harry snapped out of the daze the first and looked over at the letter that Hermione still clutched in her hands. "Hermione?

* * *

Cool. Thanks for sticking through and finishing (I hope!) the chapters! More to come soon. Reviews are MOST welcome, but go easy with the flames (it's my first story that I've updated). So please, just drop a line saying whether you've liked it or…not (hopefully the former)!

Leslie- I finally updated. What do you think! (Call me when you are free)

SnowDragon89


	3. Laughter is greatly appreciated

AN: Thanks for all your reviews, they were very encouraging. I know that this chapter is rather short but I just wanted to let you all know that I'm still writing. If you review I promise to update soon!

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all.

NO slash (Draco/Blaise is purely brotherly) BUT mildly bad language (partially bleeped out, no worries)

* * *

Clutching his bandaged hand close to his chest, Blaise followed a swaggering Draco down the corridor, one burning question running through his mind. Why on Earth would Voldemort want to off his "heir apparent", it didn't make any sense…unless, Blaise contemplated suspiciously.

They continued to walk toward their compartment which was conveniently located near the other end of the train, as far from the Gryffs as possible, in Slytherin territory. Draco, the unofficial Prince of Slytherin, would never "lower" himself to the compartments near the Gryffindors, or worse the Hufflepuffs, but Blaise really couldn't care less.

Once they crossed the Ravenclaw compartments, Blaise slowly began to remove the bandage, spots of blood speckling the white cloth.

Draco noted the movement and smirked in approval. "Took you long enough. I was about thinking that you actually believed me back there. You should have known that I only said that to get on up on mudblood Granger, freaking know-it-all."

Blaise scowled at the laughing teen and used his good hand to cuff Draco upside the head, mussing the carefully arranged hair. "So nice of you to joke around on my expense." He muttered good-naturedly.

Yelping in protest to the touching of his head, Draco abruptly stopped and turned to the window to inspect his reflection, smoothing his oh-so-stylish hair and crooning to it all the while. "Don't worry my precious, we'll get our revenge on the insolent fool that dared to hurt you." He shot Blaise a creepily calculating look that reminded him of someone else with staring red eyes…

After he had managed to "save his hair" Draco turned to Blaise and sniffed at him haughtily. Snobbishly he stuck his nose in the air and pointedly ignored his friend-now-turned-enemy.

Now sporting a growing smirk, Blaise followed Draco into the compartment at a safe distance. He poked his head into the compartment and suspiciously made his way inside, keenly aware that Draco would be seeking revenge.

Without fail, came the cascade of red and gold glitter that stuck to his clothes and hair. Laughing, Blaise shook his head and glitter poured onto the already sparkly carpet. When he looked around he found himself staring at an empty compartment.

"Come out to play Drakie-pookie -?" he started to ask sappily while covertly looking for a glimpse of invisibility cloak.

At the name Drakie-pookie, Blaise found himself tackled from above by an invisible figure. Roaring in laughter, he pulled the invisibility cloak off Draco and dumped the glitter he had pulled from his pocket all over the carefully gelled hair.

Draco jumped up again and frantically ran his hands through his hair, trying to beat the glitter out. It was futile. After a few seconds Draco threw up his hands and flumped across the seat. He glared darkly at Blaise but when it only sent him into more fits of laughter Draco sighed and gave up. There were just some battles that you couldn't win.

Blaise smirked, "I would have thought that you were smart enough to magic your hair to remain perfect by now."

Draco looked disgusted and carefully touched his hair. "My hair is all natural, thank you very much."

"Right… and here I was thinking that you used Smear-on's All-style-no-grease hair gel. Silly me." Blaise teased sarcastically.

Draco twitched his nose, closed his eyes and listened to Blaise's gentle laugh, feeling waves of satisfaction run through his body. Blaise was easy to deal with, emotionally at least. It looked like things were back to how they used to be, before Voldemort had taken an interest in his best friend.

The laughter died down and Blaise swung his feet over the seats, resting his fully healed hands behind his glittery head. He sighed and Draco echoed one back to him.

Breaking the comfortable silence Blaise spoke softly, "As much as I hate to admit it, you could have been right."

"Hm?"

"I mean, it's not the first time the stupid bird attacked me, and it never occurred me to check if it had infected me." Blaise sighed and propped his feet up against the warm window pane feeling utterly ignorant.

"Don't kick yourself over it. You're just not used to it yet." Draco muttered, busily enjoying the sunlight as it shined on his glitter-covered covered robes.

"What did Voldemort want anyway?" he added.

Blinking, Blaise turned over to look at his best mate, "When… that night?"

"Well yeah and in the lett-" Draco and Blaise shot up in unison.

"Please tell me that you took it." Blaise whispered nervously.

Draco winced and shook his head, "Oh sh." He muttered emotionlessly as Blaise tore out of the compartment.

The glitter long forgotten, the two made their way through the corridor as fast as they could without embarrassing themselves and ruining their reputation (Draco shuddered at the thought). Blaise skidded to a stop in front of the Head compartment and flung the door open. It was empty.

Cursing they ventured into the mainly uncharted Gryffindor territory, carefully keeping an eye out for blood-sucking mosquitos and poisonous spiders that were to be expected in such jungles.

Adjusting his Head Boy badge to fend off the vicious howler monkeys (namely the Creevey brothers and their bloody irritating cameras), Blaise strode carefully around and poked his head into every other compartment. After a few seconds he finally hit jackpot. Narrowing down which compartment to open by following the loud voice that belonged to Ron Weasley, Blaise quickly motioned for Drake to join him.

"Read it again Hermione, you have to be reading it wrong!" a voice said insistently.

"I'm not reading it wrong." She snapped irritably. "There is only one line and it says-"

Another boy interrupted, "And what is it signed as Hermione? Does it really say-?"

"Yes I already told you that Neville." Hermione sighed frustratedly, completely unaware that two Slytherins were outside the compartment door.

Imagining the worst, Blaise flung the door open and plucked the letter from Hermione's hands before she could react. "If you're done reading my mail I'd like it now."

Sneering at the remaining students he walked out of the compartment. After walking a few steps away from the door to Draco, Blaise opened the letter.

Blaise's eyes widened fractionally, his face devoid of color, as he quickly read the one-line letter.

_We were just deciding whether Braeden would look better with one arm or two. What would your preference be?_

_You have three hours to reply._

_-Father_

Draco read the letter over his friend's trembling shoulder and gave the boy a confused look. Pulling out of letter out of Blaise's tight grip he reread it… and reread it again.

Waving the letter in front the teen's unfocused eyes Draco looked puzzled. "What's all this about a circus?"

When Blaise didn't answer, Draco turned him and shook him out of his state of deep-thinking.

"What is this about a circus?" he repeated again, careful not to be overheard.

"What the hell are you talking about?" Blaise countered angrily, upset that Drake was making jokes over his parents' pain and his predicament.

Sighing frustratedly Draco read, "Dear Brother, I saw the elephants in the circus. Love, Tim."

He looked up at Blaise and added, "And _elifents_ is spelled horribly wrong."

Grabbing the letter back Blaise muttered furiously, "That's not what it says."

Smirking Draco shrugged, "Well you didn't expect daddy dear to be that dumb, did you?"

Blaise sighed and looked at the trees whizzing by, a voice inside desperately wishing that Voldemort was.

* * *

Expect an update soon. Reviews...and flames?... are welcome as always.  



	4. Bit of snowboarding fluff

Disclaimer: This is so unnecessary. We all know that this isn't mine.

All warnings at bottom. Don't want to give anything away

* * *

"How time flies." Draco sighed dramatically. "It feels like Wednesday was just yesterday."

Without looking up from his work Blaise replied, "Its Thursday today you idiot. Yesterday was Wednesday. You should remember, you were complaining nonstop about how Hermione showed you up in Defense."

Lifting his quill to his mouth in thought, Blaise's face screwed up in disgust. Growling in annoyance he crumpled up the parchment and tossed it in the general direction of the fire. "Curses."

"…Did you just say _curses_!" Draco sniggered childishly while lounging further into the black sofa in the Slytherin common room. Blaise shot him a look but he ignored it completely.

A momentary silence fell over the deserted room, broken only by the scritch-scratching of Blaise's quill which echoed loudly off the gray stone walls. Between thoughts, Blaise glanced over at Draco and started feeling somewhat guilty. The blond lay across the sofa, sulking.

"Just give me a few more minutes. He'll be here any minute now to take my letter. And then… we can go to the kitchens." He smiled invisibly when Draco gave out a little whoop in the middle of his sulk.

An ear-splitting screech and several vicious scratch of talons against the window pane later, Diablo arrived. _Affectionately_ named by Draco after the bird's bizarre propensity to appear suddenly when anyone mentioned it ("speak of the devil"), the bird flew into the room and rested for a millisecond on the edge of Blaise's desk before flying back out the window.

"What in Merlin's name!" Blaise was bewildered, his stark white enveloped reply in his outstretched hand. "Get back here you beast!" Tearing towards the door, _literally_ knocking Draco off the couch, he ran to the window and pointed his wand at the rapidly disappearing bird.

"Get BACK HERE!" Mentally whispering _Expelliarmus_, he forcibly summoned Voldemort's messenger bird back inside the common room. Underestimating the dangerous combination of the bird's velocity and the strength of his curse, Blaise quickly found himself with a face full of feathers. Grabbing the bird by its not-so-scrawny neck he magically glued the letter to its talons and _accidentally_ hitting it rather hard on the head.

"Thanks, but I prefer my parents' not mutilated." He muttered sarcastically before releasing the angry bird. Diablo dived once at his face but Blaise easily ducked, thanking the bird's predictability.

Without waiting to see the bird fly away he turned towards Draco and smiled impishly. "Whatcha doin' on the floor Drake? Pretending to be a tramp?"

Draco pretended to give the boy the evil-eye, "Just seeing what its like to be you, pretty boy."

Blaise scoffed, "Me, pretty boy? Look whose talking Nancy. I'm not the one who spends two hours preening myself before the mirror each morning."

"I do NOT PREEN!" he paused and added contemptuously, "And even if I do, it's more like five minutes."

"I never knew 6:00 to 6:35 constituted five minutes."

He picked up his badge from the desk and tucked it into his black slacks. Tossing his tie with his bag and unbuttoning the top few buttons of his white collared shirt, Blaise completed his transformation. One could tell the blatant contrast between before-the-bloody-bird-comes-to-take-his-letter-Blaise and mailman-has-come-and-gone-Blaise. Too bad the latter only came past nine at night.

Leaving the bag where it rested at the foot of Draco's current inhabitance, the armchair next to the dead plotted plant (the result of some first years _experimenting_ with a few shady spells), Blaise didn't seem even the least bit worried. While Slytherins may be sly and cunning they knew enough to not mess with the Head Boy and the _Prince of Slytherin, _a title that Draco took very much pride in. After all, it wasn't easy to gain respect in the eyes of the Slytherin house, even if you were one of their own. Then again, it was more _Draco's father_ than Draco who instilled that fear in the students who all heard grisly stories about the infamous Death Eater from their relatives (who were mostly Death Eaters themselves).

After following Blaise's aimless wanderings for a few minutes, Draco frowned and pointed out that he had promised that they could go to the kitchens.

"We're not supposed to go there. It's off limits." He replied matter-of-factly.

"But my dear Head Boy. Since when has that ever stopped us before?" They exchanged freakishly identical grins and did an about-turn to head to the kitchens.

When they tickled the pear and pulled open the door they found that they were not the only ones who had the same idea. If it couldn't get any worse, it had to be … the Dream Team, or at least part of it.

The Weaselette and Scarhead, as Draco eloquently put it, were sitting on one of the loveseats sipping something in large mugs. At first they thought the two were on a late night date. Though it seemed that the atmosphere couldn't be any less romantic so they threw that idea out the window, drowned it in the lake, and let the Whomping Willow beat it to death.

Both of the Gryffs looked up and scowled upon seeing them… or maybe it was just upon seeing Malfoy. Now that Blaise thought about it, it seemed that the Dream Trio…er Quartet, really didn't pay any attention to the rest of the Slytherin house. Instead they focused all their hatred on Draco, who didn't mind the attention at all. That was Draco for you.

The boy in intense scrutiny gave them his perfected sneer (practice does make perfect) and headed to the other side of the kitchen.

Potter called out sharply, "What do you think you're doing here?"

Draco didn't even bother sparing Potter the time of his day to answer the idiotic question so Blaise chimed in sarcastically, "The same thing you are Potter. Getting something to eat."

The red-head lifted up her cup and retorted, "Drinking."

Blaise lifted an eyebrow and gave her an aloof look, "Like I really care."

She flushed and turned back to Potter. Then, joining Draco who was perched on one of the stools near a counter Blaise ordered up some fresh treacle tart with cut strawberries on the side. He had contemplated asking for diced blueberries but then figured that it would take too long and the house-elves would throw themselves noisily against the wall for failing them. No, that was definitely something you saved for Sunday mornings.

"Have you ever wondered why there are so many chairs around here?" Draco gestured around him. "I mean, no one is supposed to come here anyway."

"Yeah," he muttered distractedly. "Hey Drake, how much longer do you think this will last?"

Immediately knowing what Blaise was talking about out of the million possible things the vague statement could have referred to Draco answered frankly, "I'm surprised that it has lasted as long as it has already. _Daddy_ must really want you."

Blaise scowled but Draco simply tilted his head toward the two Gryffindors who were obviously eavesdropping on their conversation.

He smirked, "It must be something inside of you he wants. Cuz it sure as hell isn't your looks."

Blaise gave him the _you've-got-to-be-kidding_ look, it was Draco's standard joke. "Is that the best you got?"

Deciding that there was never a better time than now to go back to Blaise's original question, Draco hastily steered the subject away from insults. "You really think that they aren't going to get hurt? You're so bloody naïve… You have to prepare yourself for the high likelihood that they aren't going to make it out of this unscathed. When _he _wants something he doesn't rest until he gets it."

Blaise peeked over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of Potter's startlingly green eyes. "I don't know how Potter does it? I mean, Voldemort wants him dead and he still goes around acting like it's no big deal."

Draco scoffed, "That's because Potter is so overrated. Everyone pities him because he's a bloody orphan but what they choose NOT to see is that it actually makes him one up on Voldemort. I mean, Voldemort literally has no leverage over him outside of Hogwarts because Potter's life _is_ Hogwarts."

He grinned at an impressed Blaise. "Why do you think the Dark Lord took your parents? It's because otherwise you have no reason to be afraid of him."

"You know, that's got to be the most brilliant thing I've ever heard you say."

Draco just smirked.

By this time, they had finished their food and were leaving. Draco gave the two Gryffindors the best glare he could while Blaise followed behind him, hands stuffed casually in his pockets.

Ginny's eyes followed the two boys out the door, carefully and very consciously taking in every detail of their appearance and attitude. They were, after all, two of the most wanted bachelors in the school, or so Parvati and Lavendar told her. Personally, she couldn't decide which _character_ was more appealing: the resident bad boy or Zabini, the cool and mysterious charmer. She had to admit though; there was something different about Zabini lately. He was less aloof than last year and more… well, real.

"Gin?" Harry broke in, completely oblivious to her musings.

She turned her head to Harry and studied him for a second. He wasn't so bad looking either…but he was no Malfoy or Zabini either. "Yeah Harry?"

* * *

It was eleven and they still hadn't bothered to return to their dormitory. Currently they were lounging around in the corridor in front of the lake; Draco leaning against the statue of Barnaby the Barmy and Blaise perched comfortably on the windowsill overlooking the grounds.

"Blaise, I'm bored." Draco mumbled, making faces intermittently. He was practicing his scowl of course… and his sneer and smirk.

"Well I said that we could go and sleep but you were the one-"

Draco interrupted, rolling his eyes, "I said I was bored, not sleepy. Tell me a story."

There was a pause. "Excuse me?" Blaise twisted his head away from the window pane where he was playing with his breath, creating condensation on the glass.

"I said tell me a story, something happy." Draco said decisively. "You're the one with the happy…" Draco stopped short, deciding that Blaise did NOT have a _happy life _right now. "stories."

"Alright, one happy story." Blaise rested his head against the cool stone wall. He stared at Draco disconcerting until the Slytherin shifted in place. Squinting one eye and raising the other eyebrow, Blaise closely resembled Barnaby. Needless to say, Draco told him as such.

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Perfect, that was exactly what I was going for."

"Tell me one of you snow-planking stories or whatever."

"Snow-_boarding_."

"Yeah, whatever." He rejoined impatiently. "Come on it's getting late. I want this story before McGonagall catches us here after curfew."

"But technically we're allowed to be out here. You're a prefect and I'm head boy; we could say that we were patrolling."

"But _that _is besides the point. Technically we could do a lot of things, but do we do them? No." Draco explained exasperatedly.

"But why don't we?" he said, starting to get excited.

"Why don't we what? Go patrolling, that's the worst idea I've ever heard."

"No idiot. Why don't we do the things that we could technically do but we really aren't supposed to do anyway?" Blaise rushed on without a breath. "I mean technically there is no rule against dying Dumbledore's beard neon green or painting the gargoyle in front of Headmaster's office hot pink!"

Draco stared wide-eyed at his hysterically elated friend. "What are you smoking?" he muttered without thinking.

Blaise answered honestly, "Nothing. BUT the question is how do you know that phrase? It's muggle." He shot Draco a sneaky look who immediately looked ashamed and mumbled something under his breath.

"Because I can't imagine Lucius or Narcissa using muggle slang around the house."

To Blaise's great surprise and dread Draco's downcast facade did an about-face and smirked, "I said some Hufflepuff chick did. Not that she's a muggle-born."

Blaise paused, wondering why Draco was smiling as though he was one up on Blaise. "You realize that's not a compliment." He added hesitantly, really asking himself if he wanted to know the answer.

"Really? That's odd because she said it when I-"

"NO! Never mind, pretend I never asked." Blaise stuck his hands up in disgust. Draco was quite adept in describing things in vivid details that no one really cared to know. Of course, he only did this because it got under Blaise's skin.

Draco laughed but continued anyway, "- asked her to copy her homework essay for me for Care of Magical Creatures, the most bogus class that every existed apart from Divination. But, since we decided to forget that this conversation just happened we must go back several minutes where we left off with you telling me a story."

"You know, I should just let you tell me once and for all so that you will stop holding your story over my head."

"And do what, corrupt you!" Draco said in mock horrification, he actually was never planning to tell Blaise the story. On that point, he never had a story to tell anyway.

Blaise rolled his eyes for the tenth time that evening. "Oh please. I'm not all that innocent."

"You mean…"

He smirked, "We all can here Goyle talk in his sleep."

"For a second there I thought…" Draco let out a rather fake sigh of relief. "It's funny, that's the only time that I can actually understand what the brute is saying."

"Poor Goyle, it's the only time that he can get_ a piece of the action._" Blaise sighed over dramatically.

"You know, that sounds wrong coming from your mouth. What would sound good is a nice snowboarding story."

"Okay here goes. So Julian and I were in this resort in like mid-December for this-"

"Hey! Where is Julian now anyway?" Draco interrupted suddenly.

Blaise sighed, "Yeah I know what your thinking, but he's on a mission right now. There is no way I can contact him. Besides, I'm pretty sure my mail is being intercepted anyway."

"Too bad, do continue."

"Yeah, so we were in the resort that was hosting this little dinky competition. We didn't want all this big hype and everything so Julian magically altered our appearances. Last time he forgot and we had to spend the whole weekend signing autographs and standing for pictures. So anyway, I see he's done a pretty good job for himself so, _stupidly_, I let him do me too."

Flashback +

* * *

The young Blaise nodded up at his cousin who immediately tapped him on the head with his wand. Magic sparkled over him leaving him with shoulder-length blonde hair and feeling generally…different. Before he could contest the color choice they were interrupted.

"Will all contestants please step forward for registration please?" A voice shouted over the intercom, however because of horrible feedback all they could here was a bunch of garble. Abandoning the mike, the person in charge waved around his around his arms to get everyone's attention and then directed them towards the registration desks.

Julian and Blaise made their way through the confused crowd, managing to avoid standing in a tedious line. Julian rapped on the desk to awake the sleeping worker, "Hey, I'd like to register my sibling here for the competition."

"Yeah, well does _your sibling _have a name?" the lady snapped irritably upon catching sight of the enormous crowd.

"Blaise Smith." Julian said smoothly, squeezing Blaise on the shoulder so that he would keep quiet.

"Alright Smith, pin this number to your shirt and wait till the announcer says it's your turn."

At this moment the announcer attempted to use the mike again. Loud feedback blasted through the air and the crowd visibly cringed. "Sorry. Hey! It's working." The loud feedback resumed. "Or at least it was." The announcer turned his back to the crowd and shouted to the technician, "No don't touch that wire. It's the blue, I mean purple one. It's right there! Just push that one in and pull the other one out!"

The technician stood up and made a rude gesture, "Let me do my effing job will ya!"

The announcer turned around meekly but then shrugged his shoulders, trying to act indifferent.

Julian murmured thanks to the lady at registration and steered Blaise towards open space. Blaise sat down on the cool snow and kicked off his sneakers. Pulling on his thick socks he carefully adjusted it so that they fit perfectly; bunched up socks equals painful blisters. Lacing up his boots and stepping his left foot into its bindings, Blaise stood up from the ground and dusted the snow off his back.

Julian took a few steps back and stared at Blaise for a few seconds, smirking.

"What!"

Julian just shook his head and motioned for Blaise to join the line. "Nothing, I'll see you at the finish line."

Blaise shook his head and turned his concentration towards the mountain. He pulled his board with his foot toward the four-person lift and waited for a family to go. Kicking himself down the ramp he situated himself so that he'd be sitting in the middle of the oncoming chair. Suddenly two other snowboarders skidded their way to join him.

"Hey, mind if we join you?" one of the boys asked politely even though they had already joined him.

"Um, sure." Blaise muttered suspiciously, wary of their enormous smiles. The two boys seated on either side of him exchanged looks and smiled at him again.

"So… you snowboard?" the one to his left with brown hair asked as nonchalantly as he could. Blaise just gave him a look and stared pointedly at the snowboard attached to his own feet.

"Yes, that would be an accurate conclusion." He said sarcastically.

Obviously the boy didn't notice the sarcasm and just nodded his head as though he was impressed with himself. "Yeah I could just tell."

"…" Blaise stared blankly at the boy before turning to look questioningly at the other as though waiting for him to spout out something obvious as well.

The boy to his right look a little older and sighed tiredly, "You'll have to excuse him. My brother just finds you to be very cute."

Blaise's eyes bulged but managed to keep his jaw from falling to the ground (which wasn't that hard as the ground was some 200 feet below them. He shot the brown haired boy a startled look. Was the boy… gay? It's wasn't like there was anything wrong with that, but…still, he had never seen a gay as young as the boy beside him. "Um thanks?" he said nervously, anxiously waiting for the lift ride to end.

The boy to the left glared at the boy on the right and hopped off the chair, landing face-first. Scooting away on his board Blaise quickly got as far from the two as physically possible.

Slipping his helmet over his head he gave a thumbs up to the announcer and took a deep breathe. Tilting his body forward he immediately jumped off the little ledge and shot his way through the flat course in record-time. It was surprising how fast you could go when you wanted to avoid someone.

His sharply turned his board to the left and descended into the shallow half-pipe. Improvising as he went along, Blaise managed to put together a couple of 180's, fakies and cripplers. Exiting the half-pipe without a flaw he swerved up the first and only jump where he pulled off a clean inversion with plenty of air. Landing slightly off balance on a pile of snow he stuck out one hand to steady himself. No problem.

After a few rails and a stretch of flat course Blaise zoomed passed the finish line. The crowd clapped politely even though it was obvious that they hadn't seen him go at all. He wasn't surprised, they were all parents of the contestants who were readying their cameras for their son or daughter.

"Hey Blaise! Over here!" Julian cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted. Blaise unbuckled his boot from the board and unclipped the short leash. Propping the board up in front of him, he turned around in search of the loud voice calling his name.

"Hey girl! Wait up!"

Blaise whirled around and upon catching sight of the brown-haired boy he quickly tucked his board under his arm, literally running toward Julian. He dumped his gear on the ground and slapped Julian high-five.

"You lost balance up there." He said as though disappointed.

"Aw, come off it. I'm still going to win anyway." Blaise rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Cocky aren't we." Julian chided playfully. Glancing over Blaise's head he noticed the two boys waiting impatiently nearby. "You got yourself a fan club already? Really Blaise you have to control yourself."

Blaise stiffened and took a step closer, "Oh crap. Can we please go now?"

"Why? They look pretty _friendly_ to me…" Julian said slyly, letting on that he knew what was going on.

Narrowing his eyes, Blaise stuck out his hand. "Give me a mirror."

Julian winked and magically (of course) pulled one out of his pocket. He held it in front of him as someone would do to a dog and waved it mockingly. "Why? Don't you trust me?"

"No!" Blaise whipped out his hand and stared at himself in the mirror, mouth opening in horror. He sputtered for a moment and then throwing down the mirror he gave Julian the meanest glare he could muster. When it didn't affect Julian, who was bent double in laughter, Blaise tackled the much taller man to the snow.

"You turned me into a bloody girl!" he-… she whispered angrily.

Julian smirked and pulled Blaise up, "Now cutie-pie, don't you be like that. Besides, I think your friends want to talk to you."

Blaise didn't take his eyes off his hands, which looked decidedly more feminine than he had realized before.

"Aw, don't worry. You're not _really _ a girl. It's just an illusion."

Blaise let out a mock sigh of relief. "Gee, that makes me feel sooo much better."

Julian smiled winningly, "Glad to be of service. Now don't be mean and go talk to your friends." He shoved the female Blaise toward the two boys.

"Have fun honey!" Julian said cheerfully.

Blaise glared again at him but walked reluctantly off. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

"So let me get this straight? He made you look like a girl." Draco said in disbelief. 

"Yeah, for the whole day. According to him, there was not counter-charm." Blaise said smirking.

Draco scoffed then outright laughed. "But there is a counter-charm."

"Yes genius. I know that now." He rolled his eyes. "Alright, enough laughing. I'm going to bed."

Blaise shoved him off of Barnaby. "Come on let's go."

* * *

Warning: Insinuated slash. (accidentally of course) 

Leave a review if you liked the chapter (next one won't be as fluffy. I couldn't give you like all action stuff. It wouldn't make sense.) Toodles!


	5. Of glares, stares & exploding cauldrons

Lema pema kema, this is for you. Now please let me get back to my homework! (school is _not_ over yet)

Disclaimer: I do not claim to own HP or an NS 5 (ha ha…I love "I, Robot")

..Sorry for any grammatical errors. I haven't got a beta.

* * *

Blaise rolled over on his bed, snuggling under the covers to protect himself from the early morning chill. He vaguely heard the window creak open, a cold breeze flooding the room. Blearily opening his eyes, Blaise reluctantly stumbled out of bed to close the window. His lower lip shivered as he neared the window. Locking out the wind Blaise stretched and crept back under his warm covers. 

Just as he was going to fall asleep again, a heavy warm weight was pressed against his stomach. Blaise opened his eyes to see two yellow orbs within centimeters of his face.

"Holy crap!"

Blaise dived out of bed and would have run across the room had he not gotten so entangled in his blanket. Falling headfirst to the ground, he lay there stunned. Turning his head so that his nose was not squished painfully against the ground Blaise noted that he had managed to knock his intruder off the bed as well.

Without moving from the ground he reached out and plucked the letter from hawk's talon. Blaise glared at the bird but was sorely disappointed when it returned a chilling glared, more intense than he could even dream of producing.

"Nice one. Getting showed up by a dumb bird 6:30 in the morning. This is a new record." Draco mumbled amusedly.

Blaise ignored him and opened the window to let out the impatient-evil-messenger-of-doom. Seeing as he was already awake Blaise left the window wide open much to Draco's annoyance. Draco huddled deeper in his bed, focusing narrowed eyes on Blaise who was in the process of lifting Voldemort's seal off the envelope. But seeing as it had no effect on his occupied friend, he stopped.

Draco flipped over his deflated pillow and studied Blaise's face as to see his reaction to the letter. His lips twitched and then suddenly Blaise was outright laughing.

"What does it say?" Draco asked, none of his surprise evident in his cool voice.

"Nothing new. Same old stuff It's just… funny to see Voldemort, the most feared sorcerer of all-time, acting like a condescending _father_." Blaise said somewhat humourously, though the implications of what he meant leaving a rather bitter taste in Draco's mouth.

Draco stretched out his hand for Blaise to hand him the letter. He read it quickly and handed it back. "If you forget that this is Voldemort not some loser, this is actually rather funny."

Goyle snored loudly and shifted noisily in his bed. In retort, Nott threw his shoe at Goyle's head, effectively shutting him up.

"But it is Voldemort." Blaise said quietly as to not disturb his other room mates.

"And that's why it isn't funny. Though all said and done, the Dark Lord does have a twisted sense of humor. He says that the flying monkeys kidnapped Dorothy today and he wants to know if Scarecrow's got what it takes to rescue her."

Blaise rolled his eyes. "Great now I have no brains." He looked over the note again and added contemptuously, "Who does he think I am? A stupid gryffindor."

Now interested Draco sat up in his bed, feet dangling over the side. "So you're going to leave them there? That makes sense. Wouldn't want to risk your life for them." After all, that would be what he would have done if he were in Blaise's position. Narcissa and Lucius were definitely not worth rescuing.

Blaise almost dropped his letter in shock when he heard Draco speak so callously. These were the lives of his parents that Draco was talking about. Unbiddenly Blaise felt his eyes moisten and throat clench. Lowering his voice so that Draco wouldn't notice it trembling he hissed angrily, "What the hell did you just say?"

"You shouldn't go risking your life for others. That's something Potter would do." He said without really thinking as he bent down looking for his slippers.

"I happen to love my parents. Which is more than you can say about yours. I'm not going to let them be tortured to death." Blaise said coldly.

Draco paled and held up his hands, trying to appease him. "I- I didn't mean it that way. You know that."

Blaise snarled, "Well maybe you should think before you speak. It would spare us a lot of noise." Then, grabbing his robe and wand Blaise stormed out of the dormitory, slamming the door loudly in Draco's face.

"Crap." Draco muttered as he stood in front of the quivering door. Running a hand through his hair, he contemplated chasing after Blaise or going back to bed. Ignoring the supreme attractiveness of the bed, Draco slipped on his robe and shoes before he left the room. He paused in the doorway before doubling back to stand in front of Blaise's bed. Whipping out his wand he magically cleaned Blaises' shoes before shrinking and carrying them with him in his search for Blaise. Being a good friend definitely did not call for carrying a pair of muddy shoes.

* * *

Blaise realized the moment he left the warm confines of the dormitory that he had forgotten to wear his shoes. Being the stubborn wizard he was, Blaise refused to go back and retrieve them. He walked toward the lake but quickly changed his mind at the sight of the dew-covered lawn. His socks would certainly get soaked and his feet would numb unnecessarily. He took a right and decided to go to the Great Hall instead. It was early so he doubted that anybody would be there to see their Head Boy without shoes. 

As expected the Hall was relatively devoid of life, barring the lone Ravenclaw whose enormous book was propped in front of him… or her, Blaise really couldn't tell. Blaise slid into the seat and the familiar golden plate appeared in front of him, laden with food. As to not waste food, the house-elves generally did not load the tables with food prior to seven o'clock. Instead they served up plates of breakfast as needed. Of course they could magic it fresh, but it was the general consesus that magically freshened food tasted horrible.

He stared at the moving cartoon carved into the table while thinking about his fight with Draco, the wizard he had come to consider as his best friend. No matter how he looked at it all Blaise could conclude was that he had overreacted. Hopefully, Draco would be able to forgive him.

"Dammit Julian. Why can't you be here right now?" he muttered sullenly to himself. Though Draco was very close to him it was painfully obvious that no one understood the same was Julian did. While in name Julian was a Beradini, by blood he was a Zabini.

He distinctly heard a soft body thump onto the seat beside him. Thinking that it was Draco he began apologetically, "Drake I'm sor-"

Blaise's eyes moved up to meet Draco's but was surprised to see two warm hazel eyes attached to a red-headed figure. What was the Weaselette doing here, at the Slytherin table? Tilting his head back to catch a peek of the rest of the Great Hall he noted that barring the lone Ravenclaw submerged in… _it's _book the room was empty.

"Hello Head Boy." The red-headed girl said as she dug into her plate of pancakes and potatoes.

Blaise raised an eyebrow at her and Ginny started to blush. Of course she masked her infuriatingly red cheeks by choking on a potato peel (smooth Ginny, she thought frustratedly). When Ginny continued hacking away at the potato peel stuck in her throat Blaise reluctantly patted her on the back, hard. At once she stopped coughing. After gulping down nearly half her pumpkin juice Ginny, now her normal color, turned and smiled at Blaise before she continued eating.

"What are you doing here?" he asked blandly though he already knew the answer.

"Well." She began after tying her hair up in a ponytail as so it would not interfere with her eating. "Today is Friday the 27th." She stated as though it explained all the world's problems.

This girl is an engima, he thought bemused. He could hardly believe that this was the Weaselette, the unofficial tag-along of the Dream Team. That certainly wasn't the answer he was expecting. Deciding to annoy her as much as possibly Blaise did not voice the question that he knew she was _dying _for him to ask. Instead he simply said, "Okay."

He forked up a piece of his french toast and dunked it in his cup of maple syrup. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Ginny staring at him aggravated. Blaise lifted his glass of pumpkin glass and took a sip, turning to look at the exasperated expression on her face.

Ginny looked away, determined to make him ask the question. She lasted a grand total of one second. Turning back to the boy she blurted out, "Well!"

Blaise, who was cutting his french toast at an irritatingly slow pace, replied casually, "Excuse me?"

Ginny grabbed the knife from his hand and responded exasperatedly, "Well, aren't you going to ask me what's special about Friday the 27th!"

Blaise plucked the knife from her waving hands as to not get stabbed, accidently of course. "Why would I ask you that?" he applauded himself internally for infuriating a Weasley so tremendously.

Ginny didn't respond but instead resorted to much more childish means. She picked up a potato wedge and threw it at Blaise's head. As a skilled Chaser she hit him square on the nose.

Blaise looked at her disdainfully and threw the squishy potato back at the sender. "Hasn't your mother taught you not to waste food?"

If it was even physically possible, Ginny became even more annoyed. "Just ask me the stupid question!" she blurted out.

Blaise rolled his eyes and gave her a pointed look, "Oh dear Weaselette, pray do tell me why Friday the 27th is so special as to warrant me being grace with your divine presence."

Ginny smiled cutely at him and shrugged her small shoulders, "Because two weeks ago it was Friday the 13th."

Blaise really couldn't help himself now, "So?"

"And that was fourteen days ago. Luna says that Friday the Thirteenth is the day that Purple Kagu-ormagoffs makes new friends." Ginny said without batting an eye.

"I always knew something was off about you." Blaise replied truthfully. "But that was two weeks ago. It doesn't explain why you are here right now."

Before Ginny could retort she heard Draco's familiar voice behind her. "Well this is touching. Sharing a quiet moment together?" Draco sat down beside Blaise and handed him his shoes which Blaise accepted gratefully.

"Thanks Draco." He muttered as he tied the shoes onto his feet, ignoring the funny look Ginny was giving him. Was it that odd for him not to wear shoes?

"Yeah, it's fine." Draco said, putting their little argument behind them stoicly. He leaned forward to see past Blaise and nodded at Ginny. "What are you doing here?"

She smiled happily and replied, "It's Friday the 27th."

Draco shot Blaise a strange look and then replied nonplussed. "So?"

Finally, someone who fell for her bait! Ginny sighed happily and began explaining her theory for Draco too. Inwardly her heart was racing. Here she was sitting and chatting with the two heart-throbs of the school. If only Hermione could see her now! Ginny shot a sideways look at the two boys and measured them up on the Lavendar-Parvati-scale-of-hottness. The boys were definitely "top-rate material" as Lavendar would say. At this thought she blushed again. To her great disappointment Draco noticed.

Blaise finished his breakfast and placed his utensils on his plate. Right away, the plate vanished. He looked over at Draco and saw that he had just started eating so he stood up and climbed over the bench.

Blaise reached up and stretched tremendously a giant yawn breaking free from his lungs. Straightening his collared shirt he said casually,"See you around Ginny."

Ginny looked pleased, "I didn't know you knew my name."

Blaise rolled his eyes and quickly clarified so that she wouldn't have some weird fantasy about how he stalked her and thus knew everything about her. "I'm Head Boy. It's my job to know. Draco, I'll meet you at potions. I forgot to grab my stuff."

Draco nodded and called after the boy, "Hey! Grab my Transfiguration book while you're at it. I don't want to go up and get it after Potions." Blaise waved his hand to let him know that he would bring the extra textbook as well.

Ginny looked from Blaise to Draco and commented, "You know, for what all that the other students say, you Slytherins really aren't that different from the rest of us."

Draco took a sip from his glass and leaned closer to Ginny, smirking. "And what makes you so sure?"

Ginny felt the heat rise in her face at being so close to the boy but thankfully he had already gotten up. "Bye Draco."

* * *

"Vigilance" Blaise spoke to a seemingly normal section of the stone wall which melted away, revealing the archway leading to the Slytherin common room. A few sixth years trickled out of their dorm to head for breakfast, chatting loudly until they caught sight of Blaise. As a sign of respect the three girls looked up and stared squarely into Blaise's eyes. While some may think that this tradition was not showing proper deference, it was their Head of House's belief that no secrets should be kept between them. As it was, they were isolated as a house and intra-house conflicts were completely unnecessary. 

As expected, Blaise looked momentarily into their eyes. While it's easy to school one's facial expression to not show emotion it's quite difficult to control the infinitesimally small flickers of one's eyes. And that was enough to tell a person's intent. Of course, all this happened within the matter of one second and neither party stopped walking. So all in all to a non-Slytherin spectator, it would appear as if nothing had transpired between the four Slytherins.

Blaise slung his bag over his right shoulder and picked up Draco's transfiguration book from where it was neatly placed on his night-stand. _On second thoughts…_ Blaise quickly dumped his books from his bag and simply shrunk his books so that they would fit in his pockets. Just last week they had learned how to perform the non-verbal shrinking charm. He slipped the latest letter from Voldemort between the mattresses of his bed and stood up quickly at the sound of the bathroom doorknob turning. It was only Nott. Then carrying Draco's book in one hand, Blaise nodded to Nott who had just emerged from the shower and he left the room.

* * *

"Open your books to page 437." Professor Snape's smooth voice hissed out slowly. Blaise and Draco were sitting in the second row to the front with their fellow Slytherins beside them. "I expect each of you to hand in a labeled vial of the potion by the end of the period." 

Within the five minutes the Gryffindors started to become restless. The Dream Team was talking in hushed tones while trying to complete the assignment at the same time. Draco looked up from where he was cutting his cat spleen and stared calculatingly at Weasley's cauldron and the ingredients arranged in front of the red-head. Ron caught sight of Draco's gaze and shot him a nasty look before turning back to stare at Hermione's rapidly moving lips with glazed eyes.

Draco bent back down to his work and muttered to Blaise, "In about… twenty-five seconds Weasel is going to put his porcupine quills into his cauldron before his cat. Of course, the numbskull is going to blow up his cauldron and drown the rest of us in his scalding hot mess."

Blaise immediately edged to the end of the bench to get as far from Ron and his doomed cauldron as possible. Draco slid his cauldron over, following Blaise, and tapped them both with his wand to protect them. Blaise stared reprovingly at him but when Draco didn't budge Blaise lifted his wand under his desk and warded the rest of the students, excluding the Dream Team of course. They deserved it.

As if on cue, Ron reached over and plucked a handful of porcupine quills to throw in his sickly purple mixture. Granger noticed in the last second what Ron was about to do and was reaching out to stop him when the caudron exploded. One of the Gryffindor girls screamed but the gooey mixture splashed harmlessly against Blaise's shields.

Professor Snape looked up and gave Weasley the most god-awful glare of all time almost causing him to whimper. "You idiot. What wereyou thinking?"

He continued to glare, eyes furious, at the Trio until Hermione got the message and ushered all of them out to go and visit Madam Pompfrey. As soon as they had left Snape turned and nodded at Draco and Blaise, who immediately released all the shields.

As soon as Snape returned to his desk Draco turned and gave Blaise an incredulous look. "You shielded the other Gryffs! Are you out of your mind?"

"I'm Head Boy Drake. I can't pick and choose who to save."

"Yeah, and where does it say that?" Draco muttered sullenly, upset that the huge disaster had been averted. "Next time, I'm not going to bother telling you."

"We all know that that's never going to happen. You're too proud to let the rare opportunities pass up to tell me that you noticed something that I didn't. "

Draco looked up at Blaise and smirked, "Well, that was most certainly a back-handed compliment."

Professor Snape glided through the aisles and while he would not scold his Slytherins for getting distracted he did give the two a warning glance. Immediately Blaise and Draco resumed their work in silence. _If only all my students were like my Slytherins._ Snape sighed impercetibly and swooped down on Neville Longbottom. _Honestly, this was such a simply potion, how this idiot can make such a mess is beside me. _

The Golden Trio had returned from the Hospital Wing burn-free and were about to settle back down in their seats when Snape hissed at them from the back of the room. "I think not. Potter trade places with Draco. Weasley, you'll be next to Bulstrode."

When the team grimaced and hesitated Snape snapped irritatedly, "Ten points from Gryffindor for not following instructions. If you do not move to your _new seats _more reductions will follow."

"My dear Slytherins, I do apologize for this inconvenience." Snape said almost apologetic

Draco grimaced dramatically and sighing loudly, he levitated his cauldron and books to his new seat near mudblood-Granger. "We know you are not to blame Professor. Sadly there are few in this room who are not at the same maturity level as the rest of us."

Half the room snickered.

As expected, Weasley flushed and clenched his fists until they turned white. Surprisingly, Potter showed no reaction at being insulted and calmly took Draco's place beside Blaise who had not paused from his brewing. Whether Potter had excellent control over his emtions (which Blaise doubted) or that he was just not paying attention, Blaise couldn't tell.

The hubbub died down and Blaise watched Potter out of the corner of his eyes. He had cut clean through the tough mandrake roots but wasn't showing any sign of stopping. Every now and then he would give Granger and Weasley glances when he thought that no one was looking. Judging on the looks on the other two Gryffindors' faces, something was up. The black-haired boy was so obviously distracted that it wouldn't have surprised Blaise if Potter chopped off his finger and didn't realize it.

Their table now shaking furiously under Potter's sawing Blaise reached out and stopped the frantic motions with his hand. Potter's head whirled around and he stared incomprehendingly at Blaise for a second before pulling his hand away. Blaise withdrew his hand and gave a disdainful look at the boy and the centimeter deep gouge in the table.

The bell rang and Blaise, who had already completed the assignment well ahead of time, stood up to walk past Potter. The boy was hurriedly stoppering his vial and collapsing his cauldron. Blaise tapped the vial with his wand to make it unbreakable and waited until Potter had slowed down his frantic packing.

"Tell Granger that the Headmaster wants to see her after lunch in his office."

"Why don't you tell her yourself?" he asked not altogether rudely.

Blaise turned and looked at Hermione and replied blandly, "She seems… busy at the moment."

Harry looked up and noticed that Hermione and Ron were in one of their quarrels. "Thank heavens she put up a silencing charm around them. I think I might go mad if I here them go at it one more time."

Blaise stared at Harry, surprised that he had divulged such personal information to a Slytherin. Perhaps Potter regarded him more as Head Boy than a Slytherin. "Just pass on the message."

Blaise turned around and walked out the doors. A few seconds later Potter's vial fell off his desk and surprisingly bounced harmlessly off the hard stone floor. Harry shook his head, smiling. Blaise Zabini was less Slytherin than he liked to boast.

* * *

AN: I know it's short but it was really all I could churn out. More next time. 

I keep wanting to write: Snape slimed, "Open your books… He just seems like such a slimy character! I'm running out of verbs for him!

I've been hard pressed with school lately. Sorry that I couldn't update sooner. As soon as school is out I promise that updates will be more frequent.

However, if I get enough reviews I might be able to squeeze one in before : )


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